The way of solace
by charmenna
Summary: Victoria Quinn is incredibly average in a lot of ways, but the light of brilliance inside of her is enough to captivate him. After believing Sherlock Holmes was dead for two years, what will his return mean for her, and can she handle having the complex man back in her life? SHERLOCK/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! This is something that I've been wanting to try out for some time now. This is supposed to be set at the beginning of season three, and I'll be doing my own spin on the rest of it as I'm sure you'll notice. My character is called Victoria Quinn, and we'll be learning a lot about her in the next few chapters. Since this is my first Sherlock fanfic, please be kind. If you think it's absolute shit, then you're free to let me know of course. Let me know what you think, and happy readings!**

* * *

She had never really been a part of his life. In all honesty, Victoria was certain that Mr. Holmes had never intended for her to be something more than what she was. She had seen him for years in her place of work. The bookshop she owned was nowhere near where he lived; nor was there any books that seemed to capture his interest either. She had worked hard for the shop, and had decided thereafter to only fill it with books that she could stand behind. Being a bit of a shut-in herself, the collection of books that she sold grew at an alarming rate. Every single one of them either dealt with historic events, cooking or travelling. None of those things seemed to interest Sherlock Holmes. Despite all of this, he was one of her most regular customers.

He rarely talked to her, not more than a few stuttered sentences that were followed by a shy look and a snide remark about her selection. Even though he wasn't very nice and he always refused to hear her side about the books he nagged at her about, she still found him endearing. For a few weeks, it seemed as if he was getting increasingly easy to talk to – this fact alone should probably have made her question what was wrong. Weeks turned into months, and not before long – she considered them to be quite close. Or, at the very least as close as you could call a relationship with the sociopath. And then, he disappeared. All of the ruckus that was going on in the papers, calling him a sham and whatnot had never bothered her. But then, as she sat down behind her sales counter with a cup of tea and the morning paper in hand – her heart stopped. He was dead. Sherlock was really dead. Victoria was surprised to find that she was in fact heartbroken.

A few days later, whilst she was tidying up around the shop, a blonde man stepped in. He was a bit shorter than her, which wasn't surprising since she was really a tall woman, and he had a terribly solemn expression on his face. She knew him instantly. It was John Watson, Sherlock's best mate and partner. Victoria had never actually met John, nor had Sherlock discussed him much – all for the sake of keeping his life private to her, no doubt – but she had a sudden need to hug the man. He must be hurting quite significantly.

Victoria turned the vacuum off and straightened the blue blouse she wore over her typical black jeans and looked directly at John, who now stood right in front of her. "Hi, Miss. Quinn I presume? My name is…" John started, but Victoria cut him off before he could finish his greeting; "John Watson, yes – I know. You're Mr. Holmes partner." She stuttered, not quite knowing what to say.

"Ah, yes, yes. Listen, I don't know how you knew Sherlock – I'm afraid to say that he never mentioned you, but as you might know he passed away a few days ago." John continued, fidgeting where he stood. Victoria's head dropped slightly and she crossed her pale arms over her chest. "Yes, I know. It was in the papers." She mumbled.

"Of course. Well, the funeral is this Saturday. Before Sherlock… Passed, he sent me a text message urging me to find you. I of course, had no idea what he meant before he died. My guess is that he was well-aware of the fact that he would meet his demise. If you aren't comfortable, then by all means continue on with your life – but I thought I'd give you this." John rambled, before reaching into the pocket of his coat and proceeded to pull out a slightly wrinkled up envelope which he then handed to her.

Victoria furrowed her brows slightly before taking the note. "All of the details should be in there. Might I ask, how did the two of you know each other? See, I always just assumed that Sherlock didn't have any people in his life that I did not know about." John's question was justified, but Victoria had no idea of how to answer it.

"We were friends, I suppose. He's been coming here for a long time, but we only started talking more than him dishing out incredibly rude assessments just a few months ago. He was a tricky man, your friend." Victoria explained, shaking her head slightly at Sherlock's crazy antics.

John chuckled slightly at her words, clearly assessing her himself as they talked. "Well, that does sound like Sherlock. He could make you mad just by talking to you for five minutes."

"Yeah, certainly. He once told me that I should end all communication with my mother just for wearing one of her home-knitted Christmas sweaters." Victoria remembered that time, Sherlock had made her so incredibly angry that she had thrown him out of her shop. But, like clock-work he was there again only a few days later than his normal schedule. He usually went to her shop every ten days, but he kept away a bit longer for that. Right about now, she wished that she hadn't tossed an encyclopaedia at him.

"He could be the most incredible arse. Nonetheless, I hope to see you again at the funeral. Have a good rest of your day, Miss. Quinn."

"You too, Dr. Watson."

* * *

 **Two years later.**

"He's what?!" Victoria shouted, nearly dropping the hot tea-kettle she was carrying. She regained her composure at the last minute and strode over to her small, and round kitchen table. Her dear friend Mary, who was sat at the table urged her to calm down with her wide eyes and then sighed.

"I know, he showed up at our date dressed up as a waiter. I thought John was going to actually bash his head in. No matter how many restaurants or shops we went to, John ended up punching him."

Victoria sat down in one of her scraggly chairs, her blue eyes clearly stating her disbelief. She leaned her head down on the table. "Darling, are you alright?" Mary asked. Since Mary had started dating John Watson, Victoria had met more of the man than before. It seemed as if no matter how big London was, it was still small enough for the kind doctor to get together with one of her best friends. Now, they were all good friends. Victoria sometimes wondered if John liked to keep her close in light of Sherlock's demise – well, assumed demise at it would seem.

The thought of John punching Sherlock made her erupt in giggles. She had a tendency to do so in the most awkward situations, but Sherlock paying for what he had done warranted her laughter. Victoria sat up straight again, still giggling. She raised one of her arms to gently rub her eyes. Once she opened them and looked at Mary, she could see that her comrade must think she had lost her mind. "So… He's alive. I must say, leave it to Sherlock Holmes to fake his own death." Victoria replied, still in disbelief.

Mary and Victoria had a long talk, about what they would do now that Sherlock was in fact alive. No matter how ticked John was, Victoria knew as well as Mary that it wouldn't take long for them to make up. Those two couldn't really exist without each other, that much was clear. Once Mary had gone home to comfort John some more, Victoria cleared up some dishes in her small kitchen before releasing a small yawn.

She went to the bathroom and changed into her usual set of nightwear, which consisted of a large Oxford t-shirt that her ex-boyfriend had left some time ago along with a purple robe. As she was brushing her teeth, she heard three knocks on her front door. Who could possibly be at her door at this late hour? Slightly annoyed, Victoria spit out the toothpaste in her mouth and rushed over to get it. A gasp emitted from her as she swung the door open, laying eyes on the most perplex man she had ever met.

Sherlock Holmes.

"Hello, Victoria." He greeted her, his usual trench coat covering his slender body, his arms behind his back. He did in fact look bruised, surely that was a result of John's lashing out.

"Hello Sherlock. You definitely look like you deserved that." Victoria remarked, motioning with one of her hands towards the bruises on his face. Sherlock rolled his eyes slightly before striding past her. Victoria threw her arms in the air, obviously he had no intention of leaving her alone. As she closed the door, she could hear his rumbling about in her apartment.

"You know, in all the time that we've known each other you have never been in my apartment – why start now?" she asked, truly inquisitive of his late visit. Victoria walked over to him, where he had slung his body down on her brown sofa. Victoria's apartment really only consisted of one large room, her bedroom, the kitchen along with a small hallway. It wasn't much, but it was her own. Books of her liking had erupted from the large bookcase that stood along one wall, down to the floor and just about every free surface in the entire flat. Needless to say, she brought her work home with her. Victoria slumped down beside him, sighing heavily. Suddenly, she realized that she was only in a t-shirt and a robe – so she crossed one leg over the other and tightened the robe around her body. Sherlock seemed to watch her as she did so, which made her slightly embarrassed. That man had the most piercing stare, which always seemed to make her uncomfortable.

"I see you still don't have a boyfriend." Sherlock remarked, whilst still staring at her.

Victoria rolled her eyes and turned her head to face him. "Sherlock, please. Can't you just tell me why you're here?"

"Mary is your friend. Did you set her up with John? No, you wouldn't do that – you're too private. All I need to know is that you're not angry with me, which is why I came here. I can see now that you're not, you are just hiding your true emotions behind an appropriate filter of annoyance which in all honesty isn't that believable."

Five minutes back in her life and all she wanted to do was kick him out. However, something stopped her from giving him one of her usual rants. He seemed vulnerable, almost. Obviously Sherlock had expected his return to be something of joy to the few people in his life, and not the reaction he had just received from his dear friend. Victoria might not have his abilities in store, but she was able to read basic human emotions and read off of that. Sherlock was hurting, perhaps not in the overwhelming sense that average people experienced – but in his own way.

"You can't just expect everyone to forgive you for what you did. Mary told me what John said, and I agree with him. Just one word would have been enough. I don't think you realize what he went through whilst you were gone, because, why would you? In all of the utterly strange conversations that we've had, you've never let on to care about what other people think and feel, so why should this be any exception? Mary is an excellent match for him, and I would sooner kill you myself before I let you get in between them. Even if it means that I'll have to keep you locked in here so that only I can be tormented by your endless supply of ill-fitting remarks." Victoria ranted, earning herself a long look from Sherlock. He needed to hear everything. Even if it meant that somewhere deep within, she hurt him.

"I'm sure you've had to keep that in for a long time. He will forgive me soon enough, it's just a matter of him swallowing his pride." Sherlock huffed, clearly not interested in being dealt the truth.

"Alright, well – if that's how you want to play it then I suspect you'll be waiting for a long time, Sherlock. Shall I make up the couch for you?" Victoria asked, too tired to give into his provocative statements. Sherlock simply nodded, which prompted Victoria to stand up and fetch a pillow along with a blanket for him. She tossed it at him, smirking slightly at his surprise. Just before she turned around to head into her own bedroom, she halted in her step when Sherlock called out after her: "How come you're letting me stay here?"

"I suspect you'll need someone to stop you from whatever ridiculous plan you've got brewing. I'm just saving you from yourself, Mr. Holmes. Goodnight."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! I am back with yet another fun-filled chapter. I've decided to try and stick to most of the story-line in season three, just so we can establish some form of base with Victoria and Sherlock. I really do appreciate your comments and follows, keep it coming! Happy readings!**

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Being Mary's bridesmaid had turned out to be quite a nightmare. Victoria and John mostly kept in the background whilst Sherlock and Mary planned, something that she had not been expecting. Seeing Sherlock help Mary in any way possible, even though Victoria suspected that it actually had very little to do with her friend, made him seem more endearing to her. Having spent a lot of time damning herself for not having a date to the future Dr. and Mrs. Watsons wedding, she had finally gathered up enough courage to ask Oliver – the bartender she fancied at her favourite bar – out. They had gone for dinner, everything had been lovely and she asked him to accompany her. It might be a bit sudden, she was quite certain that Sherlock would have called it desperate, but he had agreed – much to her surprise.

The fact that she had a date made the fast approaching nuptials seem more bearable. Oliver was everything she looked for in a man – kind, thoughtful and most of all, normal. Sherlock always huffed whenever Victoria would discuss men with Mary, his demeaning attitude about her non-existent love life really irked her – because in all honesty, who the hell was he to say anything about that? Soon enough, it was the night before the wedding and all four of them had gathered in Sherlock's apartment, finalizing the last details for the big day. Victoria had managed to charm Mrs. Hudson into helping her arrange Mary's bouquet, which had been left a mess by the florist. As she sat in Sherlock's kitchen, looking around his apartment – she realized why he was so lonely in there without John. Although Sherlock kept numerous knick-knacks around his flat, everything still seemed so stale and dusty. No wonder he got bored in there.

Whilst she chatted with Mrs. Hudson, a well-familiar shadow passed behind her. Victoria could feel someone looking down over her head, which prompted her to sigh and look up at her watcher. "What?" she asked, knowing that some form of irritating comment would soon come her way.

"It's supposed to be yellow, white, white and then yellow again. Goodness woman, I left clear instructions on the table." Sherlock commented, making her want to toss the flowers straight at him. Victoria glanced to her right and did indeed see a list there, which made her even more annoyed. "I am perfectly capable of arranging a bouquet, thank you very much. Now, go away please."

"Leave her alone Sherlock!" John called out from the living room, which was met by an eye-roll from Sherlock. "Why do you insist on making things so difficult?" he asked, plumping down on the chair next to hers. Once he was seated, he swiftly snatched the flowers away from her. "Fine, you do it then." Victoria huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I intend to."

They sat in silence for a while, Mrs. Hudson focused on her cup of tea whilst Victoria sulked. Then, out of nowhere, Sherlock piped up again: "I suppose I should accompany you to the wedding tomorrow."

This comment almost made Victoria cough out of surprise, Mrs. Hudson let out a squeaky "Oh!" before sprinting out of the room. Not quite knowing what to say, Victoria settled for gawking at Sherlock instead. He looked back, obviously not gathering why she did not respond. She finally caught up with him and replied with a hesitant voice: "No, that's fine. I have a date."

Sherlock looked down on the flowers again and sorted them quickly before standing up. "Okay, then." He said and then sprinted off before Victoria had the time to say anything else. In all good sense, she couldn't for the life of her understand his thought process. From the numerous conversations she had had with John Watson over the past two years, he had always described Sherlock as never having any interest in women. There was only one that John had noticed, which was Irene Adler. For some reason, it had struck a nerve with Victoria. She had tossed aside the enervating feeling before it had completely set in her mind, since she thought Sherlock was dead at the time – but at the exact moment when she had to turn him down, the memory had popped up in her mind once more.

She walked out into the living room, meeting a surprised gaze by both John and Mary, whilst Sherlock sat in his chair on his laptop. Deciding that making herself sparse might be the best course of action, Victoria cleared her throat and then grabbed her coat that was hanging over the other arm-chair that John typically sat in. "So, I think I'm going to go home before it gets too late. I'll be there really early tomorrow morning so I can help set everything up, then. Okay, have a good night and I'll see you tomorrow. Oh, I already said that – well, bye." She rambled, internally wincing at her poor choice of words. She offered a quick wave to Mrs. Hudson whom had reappeared in the apartment before heading out quickly. Whilst she sprinted down the stairs, she could hear John discussing with Sherlock: "Why did you have to make that, or any, situation so incredibly awkward?"

* * *

The next morning, Victoria had gotten up and dressed – now more nervous than before after her awkward conversation with Mr. Holmes. The ceremony went by seamlessly, Oliver was wonderful and so was the bride and groom. The part she really feared was the reception. If anything, this was the time where everything could so south on her part. Oliver, who usually kept his blonde hair out past his shoulders, had dressed for the occasion and pulled it back in a tight bun along with a dashing suit. He really was a dream. Once they were heading out of their car, Victoria started fidgeting with her curled hair. "Stop fussing around, Vic. I'm not that bad of a date, am I?" Oliver joked as they walked next to each other. She quickly looked to her side at him and blushed slightly, she certainly didn't want him to get the impression that her nervousness was because of his presence. "No, you're wonderful! I think Mary secretly wishes she could have married you as well. I'm just a little nervous about these things."

Her date smirked slightly and snuck his hand into her own. Victoria smiled and held on to it as they were approaching the house that the reception was being held in. "Well, she didn't move quick enough. Now, I guess I'm stranded here with you then." Oliver joked, making Victoria chuckle slightly. "Well, I'm sorry you got stuck with me – I guess I'll have to make it up to you somehow." She usually wasn't so forward, but something in Oliver brought it out in her. He made her feel very comfortable, which wasn't surprising since he had helped her through a lot of drunken issues.

Victoria's blush intensified when Oliver leaned in to kiss her cheek and then mumble in her ear: "Oh, I'm counting on it."

Once they finally entered the premise, Victoria was instantly met by Janine – a close friend of hers and Mary's of course. "You know, being maid-of-honour is incredibly difficult. Good thing I've got that weird bloke on my side." Janine exclaimed whilst hugging her. Victoria rolled her eyes, not letting go of Oliver's hand. She hadn't known Janine for that long, but the other woman had a tendency to not want to go by unnoticed – finally, they had connected over various things that Victoria had either feigned interest in or that they genuinely liked about each other. "Oh, you mean Sherlock. He'll tell you everything you want to know, I'm sure. This is Oliver, by the way – my incredibly chivalrous date." Victoria introduced Oliver, finally letting go of his hand.

He and Janine greeted each other and got to talking about the wedding. As she stood by Oliver and included herself in their conversation, she could feel his hand running on her lower back. By no means had she anticipated that their relationship would move so smoothly already. By the open bar, she noticed that Sherlock was getting himself a drink. Deciding to go over and talk to him and hopefully make things right between them -she excused herself to get her and Oliver a drink before quickly heading over there.

She snuck up beside Sherlock, leaning her elbows onto the counter. "You know that you are incredibly bad at sneaking up on people." Sherlock muttered as he took a sip of his drink. Victoria could sense that he was slightly nervous, she had been told that he was to make a toast, which could obviously only end in utter disaster. "I feel like you are not giving me enough credit, Mr. Holmes. I'm sure most people do not take mental notes of what perfume or at what rate they exhale."

"I am not most people." He replied, glancing over at her. "No, I am well aware of that." Victoria remarked before ordering two glasses of champagne for her and Oliver. "So, you brought your bartender here. I see that's working out well for you." Usually, Victoria ignored Sherlock when he tried to use his power of deductions on her, but in an effort to keep him talking – she decided to humour him. "Alright, tell me then. From what I can tell, you haven't even spotted us since we walked in."

"You still have a slight blush, and by the way you've made sure to use an extra spray of perfume – I can tell that you were obviously intending for him to stay close to you. Also, your right hand is slightly redder than the other, which suggests that you've been holding his hand. Your pupils however, are not dilated enough to suggest infatuation. Shall I go on?" Sherlock had his "no-nonsense" tone of voice, which made Victoria huff slightly. She genuinely understood why Sherlock had so few friends. "For your information, I find him very attractive. I just came over to ask if you were okay after the conversation we had last night. I had no intention of embarrassing you."

"I would hardly call that rejection. After all, I only asked so you wouldn't stand around moping for the entire event. Call it pity, if you will." Sherlock snorted, making Victoria's blush return to her cheeks. She grabbed the two champagne glasses from a concerned-looking bartender and then hissed: "You can be such an arse, Sherlock." Before storming off.

After finding their table, Victoria was incredibly glad in that precise moment that she had been 'bumped' to one of the guest-tables, they had a lovely dinner and cake. She had nearly forgotten about the altercation she had with Sherlock until it was time for his speech. Her current distaste for the man softened once he spoke about how he was honoured to be John's best man, since he had never anticipated to be someone's best friend. In a way, she could relate to him. She had never been a social butterfly, but her lack of a huge social group came mostly from her shyness – not as in Sherlock's case, where it came from rudeness and general lack of tact. His speech became longer and longer, she had expected him to ramble on for quite a bit, but it definitely looked like something was going on.

Deciding that she could easily pop off to the toilet and get back before Sherlock had gotten any closer to being done with his toast, she silently stood up -whispered in Oliver's ear where she was going and then headed out. After she was done and stepped outside, she glanced at herself in a nearby mirror. Her hair still looked fine, as did her makeup but she wanted to have a few moments to herself. Apparently, this was in vain as she felt a familiar presence swoop by her up the stairs. Then, she heard two more sets of shoes clamper up to her which prompted Victoria to turn around just as Mary tugged on her arm. "Come on!"

"O-okay, where are we going exactly?" she asked whilst running up the stairs with her newly wedded friend. "They've got a case." Mary muttered as they ran. "Now?" Victoria huffed, wondering what could be so important that they had to run off on the wedding reception.

Once they got upstairs and figured out where they were going, Sherlock and John started to reason with the person that was behind the closed door. From what Victoria could gather, something was going to happen to the man who was inside of the room. Once she heard that he had in fact been stabbed, she couldn't help but to let out: "Oh my god."

"What is she doing here?" Sherlock asked, apparently distressed by the situation at hand, which was understandable enough. "I'm wondering the same thing actually." Victoria replied with an equal amount of poison in her voice.

"Would you two stop bickering for one moment so we can solve this?" John snarled. Deciding to keep quiet after that, Victoria was pleased to see that they managed to get the situation sorted. Once things returned to normal, the rest of the evening flew by quite quickly. Sherlock had apparently been able to catch the stabber, who turned out to be the wedding photographer. She had decided to leave well enough alone and enjoy her evening. How Victoria had managed to get dragged into all of the craziness that was Sherlock Holmes's life, she would never quite understand. All she knew was that it was a narrative she would much like to be excluded from.

Whilst she danced with Oliver, Victoria noticed that Janine and Sherlock were chatting quite intensely. For some reason, she had the sudden urge to walk up to them. Luckily, she managed to stop herself – deciding that she had had enough of Sherlock Holmes for one evening. What she had not anticipated, whilst Oliver went to fetch them some new drinks, was that her ever present friend would walk up to her. "Care to dance?" She heard a voice come from behind her. Huffing slightly, which she felt like she had been doing all evening, she turned around and faced the curly-haired genius. "You're breaking your "no-dancing" rule for your pity-invite? Shocking." She commented, widening her blue eyes dramatically as she spoke. Sherlock simply rolled his narrow eyes before taking her hand in his and placing it on his shoulder. He grabbed her other hand and set their dance in motion all by himself. "Don't flatter yourself too much." He muttered whilst waltzing them around. Victoria had never known Sherlock to be much of a dancer, she certainly wasn't.

"So, you've managed to solve a murder case at your best friend's wedding? That's ambitious even for you." She continued their conversation, hoping that it would make things less awkward. "When the solution comes, you must answer its call. He nearly got away with it, it'll certainly be something for the new Dr. and Mrs. Watson to tell the kids." Sherlock stated, apparently shrugging off her mockery.

"You know, I can't for the life of me understand why you are being so nasty to me? If it bothers you that I'm here with Oliver then you could've said something sooner." Victoria exclaimed whilst being swirled around. This made Sherlock snap his eyes up to meet her own. She already knew that he didn't feel things like other people did, but the way he had been acting was simply ludicrous. "Why would I care? I don't think I've been anything but friendly to your new boyfriend."

"I don't think telling him that he will never amount to anything else than bartending qualifies as being friendly, Sherlock." Victoria replied sternly. She had to explain to Oliver how her supposed friend was, but she could tell that her date was offended – by all rights.

"I'm simply being honest. If I've managed to offend you somehow, then I am deeply sorry." Sherlock stated, before ending their dance with a halt. Victoria turned her head and noticed that Oliver was back, looking at them smugly with two glasses of white vine in his hands. She sighed to herself before letting go of Sherlock. Right as she was walking back to Oliver – she offered Sherlock a slight smile and raised her hand to straighten his tie. "I still think it bothers you. Next time, let me know."

Before Sherlock had a chance to give her a snarky response, Victoria was already walking away from him. This had truly turned into a more complicated situation than she had been expecting that evening when she had found out that he was still alive.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! How have you been? I'm happy to see that we are growing slightly, that makes my day! I'll have to agree with Lili and galwidanatitud, Sherlock is behaving like a petulant child. If only he wasn't so gosh darn cute… Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter, and keep the R &R coming! I appreciate your follows, love and support! Happy readings, my doves.**

* * *

Sherlock's infamy had certainly caught up with her. Victoria had not seen him since John and Mary's wedding. When she had gone over to his flat, he had not answered the door. Mrs. Hudson had offered her an apologetic look, Victoria knew that the elderly woman put up with a lot on the consulting detective's account, so she had decided not to push the subject further even though she knew that he was most likely hiding out in there. Finally, she had decided to leave well enough alone, if he wanted to act like a petulant child and ignore her, then that was his prerogative. She had more important things to do, like sort out her own booming business. Her bookstore had certainly gained some momentum in the past year, she liked to believe that people were finally paying some genuine interest in her literary choices, but a visit she had proved exactly the opposite.

She had been sat at her small counter, pretending to read a book whilst watching over her customers. A small group of school-girls walked in, giggling whilst they rummaged through the shelves. The four girls did not look like they were much older than thirteen or fourteen, they certainly had that look about them that they were up to no good. Victoria sighed to herself and continued to skim lazily through her book, an old copy of " _La Reine Margot"_ that she had not had the time to read properly. "Excuse me, ma'am – are you Victoria Quinn?" A young voice piped up, her voice filled with childish humour and a lack of propriety.

Victoria pondered over the fact that the young girl had actually called her ma'am, before she set down her book and looked up at them. They were all standing behind her counter, eagerly awaiting her response. "Yes darling, what made you come to that conclusion? The sign perhaps?" she couldn't help but to be slightly snarky to the girls, seeing as her store was called " _Victoria Quinn's Bookshop – a book to get you hooked_ ". She had considered getting a new sign with a slightly catchier slogan, she had admittedly had a few glasses of wine when she sent off the instructions to the people who were designing said sign.

The girls giggled slightly at her response and nudged each other slightly. "Isn't this the day that Sherlock Holmes comes here?" a dark-haired girl asked shamelessly. Victoria cocked an eyebrow, wondering if the scenario taking place in front of her was actually for real, or if it was just a bad dream. "I don't keep track of when different customers come here, dear." She tiredly stated, gently rubbing her right temple with her fingers. "I heard from my friend Daisy that he's always here on this day, so when is he coming? He's so hot!" The comment alone was enough for Victoria's face to turn a deep shade of crimson before she swiftly stood up and headed over to the girls to try and shoo them out. "Alright girls, that's it. Go on now." Victoria huffed as she hurried the girls along. They complained slightly as she ushered them out, making a few of her other customers' giggle silently.

* * *

When she closed down, Victoria was still fuming. Since when had her place of business turned into some meet-and-great for the consulting detective? She hurried over to Sherlock's house, determination in her step. He was not going to ignore her this time. She approached 221B Baker street quickly, her anger definitely played a big part in her unusual speed. Once she strode up the stairs and knocked violently, it only took Mrs. Hudson a minute to open the front door. "Yes, dear? Are you here for supper?" The sweet lady asked, seemingly more pleased to see Victoria than she had anticipated. "No, Mrs. Hudson. I'm here to speak with Sherlock."

"Well… He's not in at the moment. I can take a message for you if you'd like?"

"I can assure you that said message would be filled with such profanities that you would want to burn it immediately, Mrs. Hudson. Now, I know he's in. I might not have his ability of deductions, but I can certainly tell when you're lying. I am very sorry, but I am about to barge in." Victoria stated, her voice slightly shaky. Mrs. Hudson simply nodded and let her in, allowing Victoria to run up the stairs to his flat. She was just about to bang at his door before it creaked open by itself. Victoria strode in and saw Sherlock in his bathrobe, a violin in hand. He looked slightly amused at the sight of her – in all honesty, she was probably sweaty and dishevelled from running all the way over there. "Honestly, there is no need to get so angry Victoria. Poor manners." Sherlock reprimanded her, making Victoria's blood boil.

She strode over to him and grabbed the violin from his hands. By doing so, Sherlock's eyes widened slightly, obviously he had not anticipated that he would make her so angry. She set the instrument down on the floor before pointing at him with a shaky hand. "You! You are going to take that blog of yours down, this instant!"

Sherlock tightened the deep purple robe that he had draped over his thin frame before replying: "First off, it's John's blog – and second, why would I do that?"

"Because you have turned my shop into some sort of circus! Just today, a group of girls walked in and started inquiring about the famous Sherlock Holmes. The other day, a man tried to convince me that you needed to take his case. That's my business Sherlock, it's my livelihood! "

"Was it interesting?" Sherlock asked, making Victoria stop ranting. "Was what interesting?" she asked against better judgement. Mr. Holmes rolled his eyes at her and continued: "The case. Was it interesting?"

By then, he had angered her so much that she took the finger she had been pointing at him and prodded it into his chest. "I will hurt you. Don't make me hurt you. You will make John issue a blog post about respecting peoples' privacy, and you will do it _this instant_!" she shouted, whilst continuing to poke him. Sherlock sighed and grabbed her hand in his, lowering it from his chest. "This is exactly why I did not want to see you, for your information. You're too… Loud."

Victoria swatted his hand away from her own and grabbed the collar of his robe in both of her pale hands before growling an alarming number of profanities at him. Much to her surprise, Sherlock edged closer to her and made her back up until her back hit the wall behind her. At this point, she had no idea what was going on. She still held onto the collar of his robe as he stood in front of her. Sherlock leaned in and set both of his arms on each side of her head before inching his face closer to her own. Once Victoria could feel his breath on her lips, she gulped slightly. Sherlock continued inching closer to her, and let his mouth get near her ear -blowing small puffs of breath onto it. "I'll tell him to write something appropriate." He muttered seductively, making Victoria blush deeply. He leaned back slightly and stared intensely into her eyes. "T-thank you." Victoria stuttered, letting go of him as she did. Seeing as she was still dating Oliver, the current position she was in seemed extremely inappropriate.

Sherlock lined his entire body up with her own, at this point – Victoria was definitely about to pass out. He continued to look straight into her eyes, and she did not dare to look down even for a second. "See, now your pupils are definitely dilated." He then muttered, ruining the mood slightly. Victoria had no intentions of letting him get the upper hand in any way, but before she could shove him away from her a man cleared his throat from beside them. "Ah, Mycroft." Sherlock greeted the man. The entire scene had startled her, making her jump slightly to her right away from both of them. Realizing that she was meeting Sherlock's brother for the first time in the risqué position that they were in made her blush even more, if that was even possible at that point.

Victoria straightened her black midi dress that was now slightly sweaty from Sherlock's advances, before finally daring to look at Mycroft. She had never met him in person, but from what she was told, he was even more intimidating than his younger brother. "Miss Quinn, I presume?" Mycroft greeted her. The tone in his voice was slightly derogatory, but she could not in all fairness blame him either. She waved one of her hands awkwardly whilst nodding: "Ah yes, that's me."

Victoria felt like she had done enough awkward standing around, so she slumped down in John's usual armchair – she was honestly exhausted from all that the day had had to offer her thus far. "Why are you here, brother?" Sherlock asked, tightening his robe once more before heading over to sit in his own chair. Victoria had assumed so far that Sherlock had been attempting to seduce her only to prove a point, but she could see a hint of redness on the nape of his neck. Could it be possible that she had managed to affect him in some way?

"I am actually here because of your… Friend." Mycroft announced as he sat down in the chair that Sherlock and John usually kept out for clients. Victoria furrowed her brows, not quite sure what he was saying. "You're here because of me?" she asked, mentally slapping herself for asking such an obvious question around the two Holmes brothers. "Yes. I received some unfortunate information about Miss Quinn. It would seem that someone has been following her."

The news Mycroft gave her seemed mind-boggling. She had barely noticed anything at all. "And who is following me? Did you get that information as well?" Victoria asked, her voice slightly more high-pitched than usual. Who could really blame her, she had gone from throwing out school girls to finding out that she was being stalked all in one day.

"I did. It's a Russian assassin by the name of Ksenia Petrovja, but the more alarming news is that she used to work for Moriarty. It would appear that you did not do as good of a job as you originally thought, little brother." Mycroft informed the pair. Victoria glanced over at Sherlock, who seemed deep in thought. She had heard very little of Moriarty, only that he was the reason as to why Sherlock faked his own death. Only, as far as she knew – the consulting criminal was dead as well. "Is she trying to settle some form of debt? What am I supposed to do now? What if she's outside right now?" she rambled, trying to come to terms with her current predicament.

"You'll stay here." Sherlock piped up solemnly, he had stayed quiet up until then. Victoria did not necessarily know how to feel about that. She had found that the more she got involved with Sherlock, the more her own life changed for the worse. "That would be wise. And I can assure you that she is somewhere around here, otherwise she would not be very good at her job. But we do have men on the inside roaming around as well. If this is another link to Moriarty then we cannot afford to miss it on account of you, Victoria." Mycroft continued, placing emphasis on her name. Somehow she got the feeling like she was inconveniencing him by being there, if anything – she was quite certain that Mycroft cared very little for what happened to her, if only he could protect his brother. All of this she could definitely wrap her head around, it seemed natural, but she was ultimately the innocent one in this scenario.

"Well, I can't go to work or go anywhere for that matter. How are you not more worried?" she exclaimed, pointing her accusation at Sherlock – who still kept annoyingly quiet. He glanced over at her, a cold expression on his face. "If she wanted to kill you, then she would have already. She is most likely gathering information; the real question is on what." He deducted, leaving Victoria less than satisfied. When Sherlock had finished, Mycroft sighed once more before standing up and fixing his heavy coat slightly. "I would suggest you keep an eye out. Goodnight, brother – goodnight Miss Quinn."

Before Victoria had a chance to reply, he had already headed out of the door. She stood up swiftly and rushed over to the window. She tried to see something, but was unable to do so. A chill ran up her spine, and she suddenly got the feeling that she shouldn't be standing so close to an open window. Whirling around, she was instantly met by Sherlock. "You can stay in John's room. I'll leave some of my shirts and looser pants in there."

Having decided that she was too tired to argue, Victoria made her way inside of John's old room and tried to calm herself down. After nightfall, when she had put on one of the simple white shirts Sherlock had brought her – she laid under the covers, trying to make sense of her chaotic day. Whenever something creaked, she was startled. Victoria raised her arm to look at the small clock she kept on a thin wristband – it had turned to three in the morning. Against better judgement, which seemed to be a common theme for the night, she got up and creeped out of her room and over to the curly-haired man that she had such a complicated relationship with. He could attempt to toss her out if he wanted to, but she was not sleeping alone. He owed her that much. Once she opened the door and snuck inside – she could see his large bed along with Sherlock sprawled across it. He looked like he was sleeping.

Having made her way over to the bed in an instant, she sat down as quietly as she possibly could before sneaking under the covers and laying her head down on one of his pillows. When he started to stir in his sleep, she quickly closed her eyes and pretended to have dozed off. A hand tucked a loose strand of her dark hair behind her ear, and then left her. He didn't move or say anything snarky, he just let her stay there with him. Victoria hardly felt safe from the new threat that had entered her life, but knowing that he was there for her did ease her worry. If only for a little bit.


End file.
